Blind
by if.the.plane.goes.down
Summary: The truth is hiding in your eyes And it's hanging on your tongue. Just boiling in my blood. But you think that I can't see... How did we get here? I used to know you so well.....


**Blind**

When Neji sees a man die for the first time, he is sure it's something unreal. He's even more sure that it's something he never wants to see again, though he knows that he will many times over. He has already seen his destiny in Hinata's fragile eyes. He is to be the strong one. Though he is simply a discarded child, walking unnoticed too far away from the village compound, and into the forest where a man, no, a Boy is being slaughtered. The Boy has his age. And he imagines his build, and his face. And the white tantou flashes down like a streak of lightning from the sky. So that he barely notices the hard muscled machine of a body wielding it. Until the uniformed frame lands soundless beside the now sleeping Boy, and he can just make out the dog shaped white porcelain mask. And then the startlingly crimson line draping a gurgling red smile along the Boy's throat. And he stares in abject terror horribly transfixed. He sees the shock of silver hair floating above the dog mask. He has heard the stories and realizes he is seeing a ghost. The head turns and the eye behind the mask is sharp and cold and hard like a white fang. He sees the slight flicker of the wrist. He sees the kunai torpedoing towards him, he turns and runs before it can connect. When he sees Kakashi again, it is years later. When the shock of silver hair is floating above a jounin's vest. And the one visible eye is empty. And he wants to ask if the man remembers that day. But Kakashi says that he has been watching him train, and compliments him on his use of the gentle fist technique. And smiles. And there's nothing cold or hard about it, and he thinks that he must be mistaken. And he sees it's futile. So he simply says "Thank you."

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Jiraiya writes his best book when he is too old to remember how to adequately deal with pain. And too young to care. He has seen enough of the world to want to create a happy ending. Even with his weathered eyes he couldn't trace a pre-existing one. He scrambles for a pen. He finds visions of silver snakes dancing in his head as he searches for inspiration. He glimpses the twisting plot before he can find the paper to satisfy it's tugging at his mind's eye. He excitedly begins to write. When he gets to the part about the Silver Snake King's desertion of his lover and his village for the chance at immortality he presses down so hard that the pen breaks and bleeds all down it's sides and mixes with the wetness he has already leaked onto the paper. He sees to it that the book is neither ever finished nor published.

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The puppet is the only thing Kankuro sees much of anymore. Sometimes he sees Temari when she floats in on a stolen wind and allows herself a seat in his workshop. Almost reverently he likes to think, watching him do what he does best. He never sees Gaara anymore. Ever. Though he's always certain that he hears his slow dragging footsteps meticulously trailing down the hallways on nights when he's reduced to feigning sleep. But it always turns out to be just his aching paranoia. Actually seeing the kid is another thing entirely. There's only the puppet. The strings on it have grown extra taut as of late, but there's nothing to about that. He washes it's intricate body sometimes only when the sight of it does not strangely repulse him. He keeps it oiled though lately it has been feeling like a nuisance. He only never forgets to paint it's face. And sometimes when he studies it closely he realizes he is looking into the mirror.

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Rock Lee has never seen his parents. Once he dared himself to imagine what they might look like. And when the images came to him, he scribbled them down on paper. He sleeps with the papers under his pillow at night, wishing. When someone asks him about them, he hands them yellowed parchment coal smeared. He follows his friends to the training field. He stretches while Hinata and Neji train, sparring with each other. He notices their matching eyes and their shared methodical techniques. He watches them bounding off of each other in perfect serpentine synchronization. Two lilac dragons. He grits his teeth. He sees red. When they both chance to look his way he smiles.

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Kakashi sees Obito standing sentinel at the foot of his bed. He can't see that the window is open since his young friend is standing in the way, but he can feel the cold air blowing in, and hear the wind rustling against the flapping curtains. He reasons that must be how he got in. He isn't scared, because Obito comes often especially after Kakashi's had a little too much to drink. And he thinks it'd be nice if sometimes the boy spoke to him. Even if it was just to say how much he hates him. But Obito never says anything. Simply stands and stares. Always half in shadow, which is Kakashi is grateful for. And always with his hand out. And he knows exactly what the boy wants. And twice he thought it. And once he even tried it. To wrench it free of himself and just hand it over. But he was too cowardly, and it bled too much. Now being that he's no stranger to regret, he thinks that it might have been best to go through with it. After everything that he's seen he thinks it's be best to go blind.


End file.
